The Question
by musefatale
Summary: Ron/Hermione. Ron gets ready to propose to Hermione. Written in 2007.


**Title: **The Question**  
****Rating: **PG**  
Word Count:**1,392**  
Pairings: **Ron/Hermione  
**Summary: **Ron gets ready to propose to Hermione. **  
Warnings:**Sugar-sweet fluff, singular use of the word "dammit".**  
Author's Notes:** I absolutely loved writing this; it was so much fun to get into Ron's mind as he's a character I haven't written much of. I do hope I've done a good job! Also, I apologize for being completely unoriginal with titles. It's my kryptonite.

**The Question**

Ron ran through the checklist in his mind over and over again, making sure he had everything just right. All of his plans were in order, and if he knew Hermione like he did, everything would go like clockwork. The only people who knew of his plans were Hermione's parents, freshly returned from their vacation to Australia and with all of their memories intact. Even in the Wizarding World, there were some traditions that had to be followed. Stuck in the pocket of his jeans was the ring that Mrs. Granger's father had given her mother; the ring that he was barely an hour away from giving to Hermione.

He had chosen not to tell anyone in his family, not even Harry, about what he was planning on doing that night. He knew that they would all try to put their opinions in, and he couldn't handle all that clouding his already nervous mind. He knew what was in him to do and knew Hermione would see right though him if he tried to follow anyone else's lead.

There would be nothing terrible special about it, no fancy dinners or walks in the garden. He'd spring it on her in a place where she'd either surprise everyone, or break his heart. It was a daring move to propose during dinner at the Weasley's, but Ron was certain that there would be enough chatter, that he could do it the way he wanted to, and a big scene wouldn't be made.

In hindsight, he figured that a big scene might be just what Hermione wanted. It didn't seem like her at all, but girls were crazy that way. With just a few minutes to spare before his mum started cooking, Ron took himself upstairs and plopped onto his bed, picking up Quidditch Weekly and flipping nervously through the pages. Ginny and Harry were out back with little Teddy Lupin who's grandmother had dropped him off to spend the day with his godfather. George, Bill, Fleur and Hermione were out back degnoming the garden where they would have dinner that evening, and Percy and Charlie were playing chess in the family room.

So, he supposed it would be a little romantic – dinner out in the garden, with the paper lanterns that hung in the air above the tables and the occasional gnome nipping at one's toes. He really wanted everyone there when he did it, it was important to him to have his family all with him, supporting him.

After the war, the Weasleys spent more time together than they ever had before. Charlie had moved back from Romania and Bill and Fleur weren't more than a Floo away. Percy too was slowly coming back into the fold. It felt good to have everyone back together, even if there was one face sadly missing. Molly spent weeks crying over Fred, and she'd still break down now and then when she looked a George, but it had been months since they'd buried him and life was getting back to normal again.

He tried desperately to concentrate on the article about the Holyhead Harpies' new recruiting campaign. His mind wandered, though, and he fidgeted. For a while he was on his back, then his stomach, then sitting up against the wall, and then he had his legs over the side of the bed. He couldn't keep his body or his mind still. He wanted to march down to the garden now and just get it over with. He was constantly reminding himself that he had to wait. He'd spent too much time and thought not to wait.

The minutes ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace, and when his mum called everyone to dinner, he was more than relieved. He rushed downstairs and out into the yard while most everyone else was still setting the table. The knees of Hermione's jeans were dark green with grass stains from flinging gnomes out of the garden. He smiled and pat his pocket, making sure that the ring was safe and sound in there. Hermione took her seat as the last places were set and Ron slid in right next to her, beating Ginny to the chair.

Certain that they could all hear the rapid beat of his heart; Ron continued to shift nervously in his seat, as dinner appeared on the table from the kitchen. Everyone seemed cheerful, especially little Teddy who was squealing at the end of the table between Molly and Fleur. But the only thing Ron was looking at was Hermione. Her cheeks were flushed rosy from her time out in the garden. Her hair had come loose from her ponytail and was falling down around her face. He sighed contentedly to himself and turned to his meal breathing slowly and trying to remember all of the steps of his plan in order.

"'Mione, can you pass the potatoes?" he asked first, nodding thanks when she handed him the bowl and he spooned some onto his plate. He handed them back

A few moments later, having waited until Hermione started eating again, he nudged her, "Salt?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and handed him the salt.

He did that three more times, waiting until she was about to start eating or was getting ready to say something to someone before asking her to pass him something. It would get her annoyed and that's what he wanted. He knew Hermione, and knew that she was much more likely to be impressed at his doing something so sweet for her if he got her a little annoyed with him first.

When dinner was nearly finished, Ron slipped his hand into his pocked and palmed the ring. When he reached back up to the table, he clunked his elbow down, knocking his fork off onto the ground and consequently kicking it even further under the table.

"Dammit," he said, whispering through clenched teeth. He thought for a moment he may have found his true calling as an actor.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly and made a move to pick up his fork.

"No, Hermione, you stay put," he said, putting up a dismissive hand as he pulled out his chair and got onto his knees next to the table, reaching under it to retrieve his fork.

"Uhm, Hermione?" he asked, trading the ring to his left hand instead of picking his fork up.

"What, Ronald?" she asked, a little short.

Ron gulped and held out the ring between his thumb and forefinger, holding it out to her. Hermione looked a bit confused for a moment until her brown eyes went wide and she stared at him in shock.

"Ron, that's my grandmother's…"

"I know, your mum gave it to me," he said with a smile.

"Ron, are you..?"

Ron nodded, "Yeah. Will you? I mean uhm… Hermione Granger, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

The table went instantly quiet, everyone had heard, just as Ron was hoping that they wouldn't, and no one said a word. They were all waiting for her response.

"Oh Ron!" Hermione squealed, throwing herself down on the ground and throwing her arms around his neck – hugging him so tight that he actually had to think about breathing. "Yes! Absolutely! Of course I will!" she gushed, her voice cracking.

"Oh, 'Mione, don't cry… please… I really hate it when you girls cry," Ron groaned, slipping his arms around her waist though he'd much rather pry her arms off of him so he could breathe.

Hermione released him, as though reading his mind, and wiped the tears away from her red cheeks. She swallowed thickly and held out her hand to him. Ron looked dumbly at her for a second before the lightbulb went off and he slid the ring onto her finger. It was just a little loose on her, but there was no risk of it falling off, and Hermione said tearily that she knew a spell to make it fit better anyhow.

As the two stood and took their seats, an overwhelming clapping came from the rest of the family around them. Ginny, on the other side of Hermione, gave her a warm hug and when Ron looked at her he could see that there were a couple of stray tears running down her cheeks, and Molly's as well. He would never understand women.


End file.
